


the doctor is out

by clarakent (niewanyin)



Series: Omega Tim Week 2019 [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alpha Dick Grayson, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Cervical Penetration, Enemas, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Medical Torture, Object Insertion, Omega Tim Drake, Underage Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:08:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21776755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niewanyin/pseuds/clarakent
Summary: Tim hates going to the doctor.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Omega Tim Week 2019 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1549573
Comments: 24
Kudos: 188





	the doctor is out

**Author's Note:**

> I have to thank Myosotis for reading through this, and GoddessofRoyalty for introducing the concept of medical fetish to me and that I immediately revved it up to a hundred. And while hopefully the tags have informed you, this fic deals heavily with the idea of sexual medical abuse, in fact that's all it is. But don't worry, there will be a sequel.
> 
> This was written for **Free Day** for Omega Tim Drake Week.
> 
> Have to thank tabletoptime for the title!!

Tim fidgets in the doctor's office, uncomfortable in the hospital gown that he has to wear. He's cold, his arms prickling with goosebumps and he resists the urge to shiver. Dr. Henricks is a few minutes late, and Tim's stomach becomes a little heavier with every tick of the clock.

He just wants to get this over with.

He stares at the white wall, the ticking of the clock filling his mind, but the actual amount of time is lost to him when Dr. Henricks comes in. A slimy smile on his face, his eyes bright, and Tim does his best to resist the urge to vomit.

"Timothy," his doctor says. "How are you?"

"Good," Tim mutters, feeling like he's speaking underwater. He can't really hear himself. He pushes himself back on the table. Dr. Henricks always likes to do this at the start of the appointment, because of all the things he has to do throughout.

Tim wishes Dr. Henrick didn't have to do a single damn thing.

With icy dread in his stomach, he places his feet in the stir-ups, toes curling in fear. Dr. Henricks is still smiling, actually wider now, as he draws up a stool and settles between Tim's legs.

Rustling and noises and the terrifying certainty that Tim is absolutely going to hate this because he _ always _ does. He can't stop the whimper from escaping him when two thick fingers press into him. It's only the beginning and already Tim wants to cry, but he doesn't want to let on how weak he is to Dr. Henricks.

“Shh, Timothy,” his doctor whispers. “You’re a brave boy, but you know how important this is.”

Tim has heard this for years. It’s important for him to have things inside him every time he comes here. He has to suck up the feelings of fingers inside him. He has to close his eyes and bite his lip and pray for it to be over quickly.

It’s never over quickly.

Dr. Henricks has three fingers inside him now, pushing them in and out awkwardly and Tim is doing everything in his power not to burst into tears. He hopes it’s just the fingers today, but it hardly ever is. It’s forever and a minute before Dr. Henricks removes his fingers, and Tim only has a small chance to take a deep breath before he moves onto the next stage of his tests.

He pulls out the knotter. For it’s slightly ridiculous name, it’s a terrifying piece of equipment. It’s usually used to help older omegas learn how to take a knot, but Tim supposes that it can be used on young omegas to test . . . he’s actually not sure.

But Dr. Henricks told him it was important, and his parents were friends with the doctor for years. Tim's been going to him since he was eleven. He even tried to get custody of Tim after they died, but luckily Bruce got it.

Tim would have hated living with this man.

He whimpers and jumps when it’s forced into him, and already he feels full. But he knows that this is only the beginning. Dr. Henricks holds the device in him and pushes a button, and Tim gasps as he feels it inflate. And inflate. And inflate until his rim is stretched wide around the huge knot, his legs shaking and hips burning, tears trailing down his face and all Tim can think to do is beg, beg for mercy and beg for it to stop.

“Please,” escapes from his lips, like it always does. Tim tries instinctively bring his legs together, but that forces the knotter to move strangely and he has to choke down the scream. He’s forced to stay like this for five minutes, crying and sobbing with his feet in the stir-ups until Dr. Henricks decides that enough is enough and presses the button that’ll deflate the knot. It still leaves Tim stretched out. That’s what he hates the most out of this. He’ll walk around the rest of the day, feeling open and wide, limping, convinced that everyone can tell what a terrible omega he is, that he can’t even make it through a simple doctor’s exam.

But this part of the exam should be almost over. He can almost breathe again, take comfort in the fact that he won’t have to put up with this for six months.

And then Dr. Henricks pulls out something that causes a whimper to fall out of Tim. The enema bag. He _ hates _ the enema bag. Dr. Henricks hardly ever does it, but when he does, it’s so incredibly painful.

He’s still in the stir-ups. He has a nozzle pushed inside him, and then the feeling of warm water filling him up. He squirms, but Dr. Henricks grips his calf, squeezing it until Tim forces himself to still because he just has to get through this. He has to ignore the cramping in his stomach or how it distends as more and more water is forced into him.

Tim gives up on wanting to scream, but instead just focuses on staring up at the ceiling as he forced to be filled and filled and then . . . it stops. And Dr. Henricks unclips the hose, but forces the nozzle to remain behind so he has to keep the water inside him. That’s okay. He doesn’t want to think about how much it hurts, how humiliating it is. He closes his eyes as Dr. Henricks rubs his stomach, biting back the whimper as he feels the water moving inside him. It wants to come out, he can feel it in his body and he doesn't want to think about it anymore.

This is pure hell.

"You're a very good boy," Dr. Henricks tells him. "You always let me work without any complaints."

Tim doesn't want to be a good boy right now. He wants to scream and yell and demand that Dr. Henricks stops what he does to him and stops it now. He wants to fight more than anything in the world, but he can't make himself do it. He's bred to be conforming, to not argue with alphas tell him to do something. He knows he should get stronger and better, but he _ can't _.

Dr. Henricks looks in his ears and eyes and nose while the water is inside him. He tests his heartbeat and blood pressure, but Tim doesn't see how he would ever get an accurate read of it. His heart is beating too fast right now, and Tim can't stop the tears from falling down his cheeks.

It's only fifteen minutes before Dr. Henricks guides him over to a small bucket and pulls the plug out, but it's fifteen minutes too long and when it's all done, Tim is red-face and panting and filled with an incredible amount of shame and humiliation. Dr. Henricks just smirks.

"Are we done?" Tim asks, his voice very small even to him. "Can I go now?"

Dr. Henricks clicks his tongue. "No, no, no, Timmy. I need to do one final exam on you."

The sobs escapes him before he realizes he has it.

"Wh-what is it?" Tim asks, his voice completely broken right now. "What do you want me to do?"

"I need to lay back on the table," Dr. Henricks says, "and put your feet back in these stir-ups."

With a whimper, Tim obeys. He just wants this to be over as soon as possible, so the sooner it takes Dr. Herrick to finish this, the better. He closes his eyes, trying to ignore everything else in the room as Dr. Henricks forces something else up in side of him, and then . . . _ pain _.

Tim screams, and it's only stopped by Dr. Henricks slapping a palm over his mouth.

"Shh," he hisses. "I have to check your womb, which means giving you just a little shot, okay?"

Tim just clutches his stomach, the tears streaming down his face. That _ hurt _ more than anything he could ever comprehend. It's the worst pain of his entire life, his entire body feeling like it's being licked with fire and his stomach is cramping like hell over whatever the hell is happening to him. He's not sure why Dr. Henricks is smiling, not when all Tim can do is sob as the syringe is removed from his, fuck, it must be his cervix. 

"Now if I take my hand off your mouth, will you be a good boy and not make a noise?"

Tim nods. Anything. Anything to make sure that he'll be able to leave this place and not come back for six more months.

"Okay," the doctor says, his voice filled with false comfort. He removes his hand, and Tim takes a deep breath. He doesn't know how he's going to be able to move out of here, his entire lower half aches with pain and misery. Dr. Henricks stands up and kisses Tim's forehead, and he can't stop the flinch.

With a few more whimpers than he'd like to let out of his mouth, Tim is able to hobble over to his clothes and get dressed through sheer force of will, and then it just becomes a matter of getting out of this office from hell. Then he freezes.

Dick is waiting for him in the waiting room.

He forgot about Dick, that he had driven him here.

How could he forget about that? His parents had never attended his doctor's appointments with him, and the various caretakers he had always dropped him up and then came later, where Tim would stumble into the car, having forced himself into something resembling calm after having a panic attack in the bathroom.

He just hadn't expected Dick to stay, he guesses.

It's okay though, he just needs to hold himself together. And then he can get home and panic attack.

Dick looks up from the _Highlights_ magazine he was reading and smiles, and that's enough. He standing in the middle of this waiting room, with Dick looking at him such kind eyes and a bright smile, and he can’t move. He literally doesn't think he can move, because every part of his body is in burning pain right now. Tim bursts into tears.

The next thing he knows, strong arms gather him close and hurry him out of the building. Tim trips over his own feet and it just makes him cry harder, and Dick thinks nothing of just picking Tim up and carrying him to the car. It's not until Dick has buckled him into the passenger seat and wipes away the tears on his face that he finally asks, "Hey, baby bird, what happened in there?"

He could tell Dick. He could tell Dick how humiliating it is to be an omega and having to go through those exams every six months. He could tell Dick how much he hates going to the doctor and he never wants to go again. He could tell Dick how utterly he wants to die right now, because his stomach is cramping from so much pain thanks to the fingers and the knotter and the enemas and that fucking syringe that he doesn't know if he'll ever feel okay again.

But he can't say those words, because all that will do is make Dick pet his hair while whispering that it's just something he has to do because he's an omega and this is what omegas have to go through.

He shakes his head and turns away. He doesn't want to say anything more.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm salazarastark on tumblr as well, so follow me [here](https://salazarastark.tumblr.com/)! I'm not as active as I'd like to be, but I'm always up for talking about my fics or anything else!


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